Neutral
by justanotheranimefreak
Summary: One of the pilots is captured. His partner helps him escape.


_Neutral_, I told myself for what seemed the millionth time but was probably only about the tenth. The man was coming for me again, gun raised in one hand and a grin on his ugly face. I braced myself for the pain. _Neutral_, I thought again – no emotion was allowed to play across my face. On the inside I was a raging, fiery bundle of anger, but outwardly I was like ice. Just as well.

I threw myself backwards with the punch he landed on my face, and didn't have to fake the almost-whimper that escaped me. The stinging pain was under-laid with a deep throbbing ache, and as I fought to focus my eyes my attacker's left hand swam into view. He'd concealed it from me, and now I knew why: he was wearing brass knuckles.

I picked myself up off the floor and staggered back to where I'd previously been standing. The impact of the blow had thrown me backwards several feet, and I noted with some discomfort that I'd nearly knocked my head against the shelf that jutted out from one of the walls. I stared stonily ahead, past the stupid oaf who dared strike me. Neutral. I had to stay calm.

My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate my interrogator, because he struck me again. Not across my face this time, but just beneath my ribs. I collapsed onto the floor, panting for air as he loomed above me. When I felt that I could stand without falling, I forced myself upright. My opponent's expression turned nasty.

I had no time to prepare myself for the beating that ensued – when he was done I lay on the floor again, trying to decide which injury to nurse first. I was pretty sure I had cracked ribs, and the rest of me was bruised pretty badly. It was all I could do to drag myself to the wall and haul myself into a sitting position, hating myself all the while for my weakness.

I kept all my emotions inside. A meaningless outburst was nothing but a distraction, and I couldn't afford that now. I'd stay calm now, and when I escaped I'd get revenge on the morons who'd managed against all the odds to capture me. It was a comforting thought, and the burning desire to have revenge dulled the pain.

I don't recall how long I stayed in that tiny, windowless cell. Minutes passed, hours and perhaps even days. My internal clock had been messed up ever since I'd first been locked up. Being unconscious for part of the time probably hadn't helped a lot. I wondered where my partner was; he'd either been killed or captured, I supposed. Either seemed likely, because he hadn't made any attempt to rescue me yet.

Damn! I was a strong warrior, I shouldn't need the help of someone else to save myself. It annoyed me…I caught myself before I thought further on that. _Neutral,_ I sternly reminded myself again; thinking of a way to get out should be my highest priority.

My Kevlar vest had been stripped from me, along with every weapon I'd been carrying. Not every weapon I owned, certainly, but some pretty expensive hardware. They'd been efficient in their search to have found even the tiny wire I'd been wearing. I grimaced at the remembered pain of being brought in. I'd been unconscious, yes, but only after they'd dumped me in the cell. One of the morons had clipped me on the side of the head in passing, and that was yet another mark on the scoreboard of revenge.

I realised that I was becoming unfocused and checked myself. I spoke my mantra again, and breathed in as deeply as I could in my compromised state to try and calm myself. Then out almost immediately as the sickly sweet smell of stun gas wafted into the room.

I cursed myself inwardly as my brain desperately tried to think on the now limited air. I couldn't hold my breath forever; I had to get out! Hauling myself to the door, I ran my eyes over it, searching for any weakness. And thought quite a few choice phrases at it when I realized it was flawless. I kicked it quite unnecessarily in my desperation, and while I focused on the fresh pain blossoming in my left foot I picked up a strange scraping noise coming from the ceiling above my head.

I moved out of the way as, with a crash fit to wake the dead, the grating in the roof dropped. I stared upwards in amazement as my partner swung himself out of the hole and landed lightly on his feet, offering me a gas mask which I snatched and put on. Pushing past my amazement I pointed at the door questioningly, and he shook his head, moving and gesturing for me to climb up on his shoulders.

With a lot of effort on my part to keep from grunting in pain, I managed to swing myself into the ventilation shaft. It was a tight fit – these things had never been designed for human travel, after all – but it was better than the alternative. My partner pulled himself up behind me quickly and I almost sighed in frustration; I hated feeling useless while others stayed strong.

He tapped me on the back of my leg, the only part of me he could reach. I couldn't raise my head very high but I could feel him tracing directions on my calf. He indicated that I should go straight ahead past two right turns, and then take a left at the t-junction. I breathed in to prepare myself and started to crawl forwards.

I won't go into detail about the rest of our escape from the base except to say that it was excruciating. We got out of the building with no further problems, but my partner had to support me when we ran for the perimeter. By this point I was sure that my cracked ribs were now actually broken and it felt like they were stabbing into me every time I moved. I clenched my jaw tightly and struggled through the pain.

My partner threw my arm over his shoulder when we got to his Gundam, catching the lift wire in one hand and wrapping the other around my waist. I breathed in sharply when he touched me and fought hard with myself to keep the fuzziness that poured over me at bay; it wouldn't be good to black out now. I doubted my partner could get me settled if I was just dead weight and told myself that I could pass out after we were safe.

Finally I was firmly wedged next to the pilot's chair, biting my lip hard in my attempt to stay silent. The hatch on the cockpit closed soon after and my brain shut down at the same time. I was safe.

-

"Chang." My name was said quietly, almost gently. I swam up out of the blackness that had taken me over, groaning slightly when I came into full consciousness. I blinked a few times, muddled, until I got my bearings. I was lying on a mattress pushed up against a wall in a derelict building, two blankets thrown over me. My partner watched me passively from a few feet away, hair falling cross his face.

"Barton, where are we?" I questioned, then coughed. My voice was raspy and it felt like my throat had been sandpapered. He came over and offered me a water bottle, green eyes unreadable.

"Alaska," he said quietly as I drank. I paused between swallows.

"Why?"

"OZ does not have any forces here. It's unlikely we will have to fight," he answered, and I nodded slowly. I understood. I wasn't going to be able to fight for a while and it was better to be somewhere that I could recuperate without interruptions.

"How long?"

"Six months," he replied, and I groaned.

"I'll heal faster than that, Barton," I grumbled, and he almost smiled.

"I know. Yuy didn't want to rush your recovery," he said, and I nearly goggled at him.

"_Yuy_ didn't?"

He did laugh at that, if only quietly. "Yes," he said, "I believe Quatre bullied him into it."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Of course. If Winner had been the one pushing for me to have rest, then he would make it happen. Yuy would see that it was a good plan afterwards but would be reluctant to make the decision in the first place. I shook my head slightly and flinched when some strands of hair fell across my face. Damn it, why wasn't my hair up?

I fought to get my elbows under me to sit up and gasped. I'd forgotten about my damaged ribs in my hurry to get mobile. Barton sat back against the wall and ignored my efforts. I fell back against the mattress and rolled my head to the side to glare at him.

"A hand would be good," I said pointedly. He shrugged. I scowled. I wasn't going to beg him but there were certain processes that needed to be carried out, even by invalids.

"Bathroom," I urged, and he finally moved.

"Fine, but you are going to hate me afterwards," he said conversationally, sliding his hands under my armpits and lifting. I held onto his upper arms tightly, breathing shallowly. Even bandaged my ribs hurt incredibly. I clamped my lips together tightly lest I make a pain sound and focused on getting my feet under me to walk to the bathroom.

Barton had to carry me back to the mattress after the trip, something that completely humiliated me. Neither of us said anything but it was still acknowledged that I owed Barton on a tremendous scale for looking after me. He put me back on the mattress gently but allowed me to pull up the blankets myself.

I suddenly yawned, surprising myself. Barton looked my way and nodded, eyes passive.

"Sleep, Chang," he said quietly. I could feel my eyelids closing on their own and finally gave in. The last thing I remember before sleep sucked me under was Barton moving over to the wall next to me, leaning against it so that he could watch out for me while I was unconscious.


End file.
